Swords of Isadren (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Three: Air

Asman was hot, even though there was a steady breeze and the sun was behind the clouds, he was hot.

The lack of water in his system was likely the reason for this; or maybe it was fever from his wound, also seeing as it was leaking hopefully only blood down his back.

He was behind the herd of horses, so nobody could see that he was struggling to keep pace, or stumbling occasionally over a rock. His feet were still without shoes and he barely contained a hiss when a sharp rock would jab into them.

The only reason he knew something was wrong was because he could have walked this distance easily before. Asman was the one to run around the village and gather things for him and Sam, so it was no problem for him to walk long distances.

Now, the horses and him had been walking for a long enough time that the sun was almost directly overhead, and Asman was becoming more and more unstable by the moment.

His stomach boiled and the sweat dripped down his flushed skin onto the edge of his shirt.

When the feeling became too much, he steered off the path just so that when he fell unconscious, it would be in a patch of grass rather than the hard dirt road.

He wondered how long it would take the Guards to know that he was not walking behind him.

Asman did not even reach the grass all the way before his knees were slamming into the ground and his eyes shut, welcoming the darkness.

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"Asman. Asman!"

Asman woke by a sharp slap to his cheek, making his eyes snap open and his hand immediately reach up to slap back at the offender.

It was Niallen, so Asman immediately regretted trying to do so; trying, because the man caught his wrist easily.

"You fell unconscious, I only wished to wake you." Niallen said while Asman quickly inhaled and exhaled from the slight scare he got.

He was lying exactly where he had walked to and remembering vaguely falling, but now, the whole group was standing around and watching.

Dahlia was close by and had a worried expression, but she was the only one that held that face. The rest seemed to not care all that much.

"One of your stitches has pulled. Why did you not say? We would have stopped, or allowed you to ride at least." Niallen inquired and let go of Asman's wrist finally.

Asman noticed that his tunic was pulled up slightly, far enough that it was likely someone checking the wound.

He ignored Niallen's question and worked towards sitting up, pulling his tunic down and staring down at where the horses hooves were prancing nervously. Asman did not know much about horses, but he assumed it was the scent of his blood.

"Come, Hilcren will stitch your wound again and I will fetch some water." Niallen sighed and stood from where he had been squatting down next to Asman.

Niallen held out a hand and Asman ignored it, instead using his good hand to push his body back up off the ground.

He hated being wounded, unable to walk without passing out and drawing pity from others. Asman did not need pity, he needed to not have to worry about stitches unraveling and the possibility of infection in his shoulder.

Asman stumbled a bit as he stood, and only let Niallen lead him to another man with a guiding hand on his good shoulder because he did not want another shot of pain if he tried to remove it.

Niallen left him with the other man, who was climbing down from his horse and then reaching into one of the bags.

Asman assumed this was Hilcren, so he only stood there and watched as the man pulled from the bag a needle, spool of thick string, and pair of small scissors.